


Sonata

by chewysugar



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Love, Star Wars: The Last Jedi Spoilers, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 20:44:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13108194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewysugar/pseuds/chewysugar
Summary: The Force doesn’t grow in Rey—it sings. And it sings to Kylo Ren. When all goes to fire and ruin, that song may be the thing that saves them both and changes the fate of the galaxy.





	Sonata

The force within Rey hums like a song, so loud and distinct that it stills the cacophony in Kylo’s being. He remembers his mother singing to him—the memory so distant that it’s nothing but smoke by the time he looks at it. When Rey first reached out to him through this connection, he’d felt her song. It had unnerved him, and then drawn him utterly in. Sheer curiosity had made him anticipate those times when they’d reached through distance and time to see each other. Her hope had been both vexing and utterly captivating. He’d tested her, showing her his body that day, smirking at how flustered she’d become. And that night when Skywalker has torn through their bond, Kylo wanted nothing more than to touch her hand—to hear her song and feel her hope.

In the heat of battle, that hope soars, all drums and blaring brass and strings. It’s beautiful, almost distracting. The sight of her surrounded by that humming heat is almost distracting. Then again, his mind and heart have been consumed by her ever since the forest—ever since her song first touched his soul.

As unwelcome as their connection was at first, the thought of hearing her—seeing her again—became almost the only thing he had to look forward to in the day. He hadn’t been obsessed—he’d just been fascinated, by her and by that song.

Even now, with the blade of the Royal Guard’s saber pressing into his throat, Kylo reaches out to that song again. If this is his last stand, he wants it to be the thing he hears before eternity claims him. He wants the last thing he sees to be Rey.

Her song reaches out to him; she drops her saber, frees herself from the Royal Guard’s grasp. Kylo sees her spin, catch her weapon and impale her foe. Even as heat sears across his skin, he can’t help but be awed. The way that she moves—the way that she breathes...if he were still the type to hold to faith, he would say that she’s restoring something in him.

The Force carries her lightsaber to him—her saber. Kylo can’t believe he actually catches it; he’s so stunned that she threw it to him—worthless him. But he’s not so enamored with this fascination that he doesn’t act right away. His captor falls a split second later.

The remains of battle lay strewn around the throne room. Blood, bodies and smoke litter the floor. Kylo sidesteps Snoke’s bisected corpse, scarcely heeding the remains of his former master. That song—Rey’s song—has subsided to a gentle melody now. The fight for survival is over; her hope is whispering like a lullaby...whispering for him.

Kylo pauses, considering her. He can sense what is within her now. It almost steals his breath, it’s so unexpected. 

She wants to believe in him. Her hope, quiet as it is, is constant as the Force itself. To save him from the darkness that Snoke nurtured—that Skywalker’s carelessness helped sustain.

“Ben...”

His name, his true name. He’s always loathed the sound of it. Ben was the name of the man who made Vader, and Luke Skywalker. Ben was a scrawny, weak, idealistic child. Only when Rey says it, he isn’t bothered by it. That hope of hers chimes within the single syllable, not condescending or commanding.

All Rey has ever wanted is to build something from the nothing she came from. All Kylo has ever wanted is to be greater than what all those around him told him he was.

Balance, he realizes. They balance each other. Skywalker always spoke of the balance in the Force, but Kylo had bucked against the notion. To him, there had only ever been a stronger side and a weaker side. The weak had to outwill the strong and thus become strong itself. He’s tried so hard to consume every other strong thing around him, and what has he been left with?

A dead father.

A lifetime of scars.

A galaxy tearing itself apart.

But with her—with that beautiful, music of hope that sings within her—he can find that balance. She can calm him, bring him back from that crevasse of blind, red anger. And he can hone her strength, show her that there is only black and white in the universe. He can be the family she needs; and she can be the light he craves.

“Rey?”

He feels that tremor of fear as he reaches a hand out to her. He doesn’t want her to refuse—can’t stand to think of it. He’s laying himself bare to her now, offering more than just this chance: he’s offering his vulnerability—as a warrior, and as a man. Preemptive anger skirts at the edges of his mind as he braces for her refusal, but he tampers it, letting that song fill him. He has to trust her.

He swallows down his molten hot feeling. “Please...”

Rey’s holds his gaze. Kylo can feel the indecision—that song now a frantic, disjointed frenzy that still maintains its beauty and reason.

She closes her eyes. Tears lace her cheeks, cutting through grime and sweat. Something moves in the pit of Kylo’s stomach: a need to stop the flow of those tears. He knows all too well the pain that emotion can wreak on a person. He wants to go to her, to comfort her, to have her show him that he can share in those tears and not feel such stinging shame.

But he doesn’t want to sever this thread between them.

 _Feel me_.

She speaks in his head, his heart and every part of his being; in his blood, his sweat; in his rage and sorrow and self-hatred; and in his faith and his hope. That song—the melody of the Force within her—resonates in Kylo. He feels her pain at the loss of her family and all those she thought family; he tastes her fear and frustration at the futility of this war; he hears her need for something to pluck her away and divert the course of her destiny; the taste of her indecision is bittersweet to him, because he knows he can make her do the thing she’s fought so hard against; and he sees her as she is, in all her blinding light and shameful darkness.

He can feel her slipping away at light speed. She thinks he’s had enough, but it’s not over yet.

 _Stay_ , he tells her. Kylo surprises himself in that he says so gently—guides her into his being instead of commanding her obedience. _See me._

He shows her the things he’s tried to bury—how he feared the failure of not living up to the expectations of his legendary family; how he hoped, so dearly, when Skywalker took him to train, that he had the chance to prove himself. He shows her Snoke planting that seeds of doubt; shows her his own questions regarding the Force and his place in the universe. He himself faces the truth of that night when Skywalker had tried to snuff out the darkness he’d seen. He sees that the old Jedi had stayed his hand, and he wants to scream from the folly of all this useless rage.

They drift away, but a single thread still holds them. Rey opens her eyes, her lips parted. Kylo’s hand has fallen, the saber discarded. The gravity of what they’ve shown each other weighs on him, smothering any and all other response. Rey truly is something extraordinary—something spectacularly beautiful. And he? He had no idea of how deep his own wounds ran, not until this moment when he saw himself through her eyes.

All the fright of a child consumes him; he wants his mother; he wants his father. He just wants this wretched war and waste to end.

Warm strength closes around his trembling hand. She’s in front of him now, grasping his hands in hers. Kylo stares, unsure, but hoping. His own song begins to gently chime within him. It’s slow, faint, but it’s there, and it’s as frightening as it is awe inspiring.

“Together?” He breathes it like a prayer.

“Together.”

Kylo buries his face in her shoulder. She holds him, just as broken, just as relieved. And when the ship goes to ruin around them, they stay clinging to one another. As the fire reigns and the debris falls, all Kylo can hear is that sweet, beautiful song. Only now it’s stronger.

Now it’s their song.

**Author's Note:**

> I walked into The Last Jedi still hating Kylo. I left wanting Rey to have accepted Kylo’s offer.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
